Night Train
by zoey21q
Summary: It's been almost a year since Victoria left, and Mistofelees has spent every night since on the train platform waiting for her to return, and usually he's alone...but not tonight! Please review, I'm in desperate need of critiques.


"And what are you doing not on the train?" I asked as I climbed the last step up onto the platform groggily and rubbed my eyes.

"Oh, top of the—er—evening to ya Mistofelees." He stretched out on his bench and lazily nodded my way.

"Skimble, why aren't you on the train? What happened to 'it can't start without me' and all of that…whatever you're always talking about?" I made my way over to my usual spot on the very edge of the platform. I let my paws hang over the side, over the tracks, and noticed how dark it really was outside…compared to the white fur on the tips of my fingers, anyway.

"'Ey, a cat can have a vacation now and then can't he? I'm sure a week of me absence won't kill the conductor; and if it did, well, I'd just drive the train, then." He said very matter-of-factly before yawning and curling back up into a ball on the bench, placing his orange head on top his crossed orange paws, and wrapping his orange tail around him. Boy, did I hate orange right now…

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't Skimble. Or at least, it wasn't _totally_ Skimble. I could even go as far as to say that I usually _liked_ Skimble. It was Skimble's _presence _that I wasn't to keen on. For months, almost a year, I had been coming to the platform at ten o'clock every night, rain or shine, in a blizzard or two, waiting. Waiting for her to come back. Waiting to hear from her. Waiting for anything from her that would tell me she was alright. I had grown to enjoy the alone time, but tonight there was…sigh…Skimble.

There had been a letter from her a month after she left, but it was sent directly to Munkustrap, of course. The only reason I had ever known she had written it was by coming across it sitting on a desk in his den by accident. I had visited, as I often did, and when he left the room for a moment, the tattered envelope caught my attention. I had been able to see it for just seconds before I heard him coming. But I had seen enough.

"_Dad_," it had begun, "_I am fine. I am safe, and have found a place to live. It's nice here, though it rains a bit too much for my taste, but I have met a few people who have helped me settle. I will be back for next year's ball, I can promise you that, but I don't know when, or how long I'll stay. I still love you and everyone else. I hope to see you soon. ~Victoria_ _ " _

Victoria... A week after last year's Jellicle Ball she had disappeared. Well, not actually disappeared, I mean, she told us she was leaving, but she never said why, even though we all knew. She barely said anything. Not even goodbye…

I blamed it on Plato, maybe even Munkustrap, a little. Plato was a pompous jerk who had taken much too much joy out of bribing Munkustrap to dance with her last year, in a routine usually saved for mated pairs. But since she was the only queen old enough that hadn't done it at least once, and not "officially" mated, (damn technicalities) the tom with whom she was to dance with was up for grabs—and jealous, selfish, Plato had beaten me to the punch.

But that wasn't the whole problem. If he had stopped at the dance, it would have been fine. If he had stopped at greeting her with a wink each morning, (at which she always rolled her eyes) it would have been okay. But no. He pursued her, like they really were a pair. He had followed her everywhere: "escorting" her to her den each night, and waiting at her door every morning, so he'd be the first to greet her. At first it was just annoying, then, it got to be a bit much.

I had been seeing her for almost a year before the ball. We were in love, just not a pair…yet. I was on my way to ask Munkustrap if I could dance with her, when I saw Plato coming out of his den, shaking Munk's hand. I knew then and there I had lost my opportunity, and ever since, Plato had driven a stake between us. Looking back now, putting myself in her position, I probably would have run away, too.

That letter, though, was enough to keep me hopeful. She had promised the tribe she would come back, and I had promised myself that I would be the first person she saw when she did. It was Skimble that had told us that she had taken the train out of town. Actually, as vague as he was, I believe his exact words were, "way, way out of town." So I had been coming every night to the train station, waiting all night, rarely sleeping, because—again, according to Skimble—the "way, way out of town" trains always came, "very, very late."…

Soft singing came from behind me. "Doo dum dee de doo…" Speaking of Skimble…

"Please stop singing." I grumbled, my tail beginning to twitch a little. I knew that song. It was a sad song, and I fought back tears here every night trying to think of what I could have done to make her stay. The last thing I needed was Skimble's…help.

"Fine, then." He stood up, circled for a moment and sat back down with his back to me this time. "Try to ad some levity, a little merriment is all, practically get me tail cut off by Mister Miserable Mistofelees…" He continued to mutter. I tried to ignore him, but he just wouldn't stop. I caught little words and bits of sentences here and there like "negative" and "happy up," and decided quickly that it was worse than the singing.

"Please!" I said a little too loudly. It was like I had broken something. The calmness of the night, the peace of the empty station, or just the silence…I don't know. "Fine, Skimble, you can sing, just please stop muttering." I sighed and rubbed my temples. "Just…keep it quiet, please?"

"Notta problem." He cleared his throat and sat up straight on the edge of the bench. "Now, be weary, I 'aven't sung for an audience in quite some time, I may be a _wee_ bit rough 'round the edges."

"I really don't care—as long as it's quiet."

"Al'righty then." And he began to sing. It was the same one he had been humming earlier. If "levity" was really what he was going for, he had missed the mark by more than a little, though, it _was_ painfully appropriate. "_Daylight…see the dew on the sunflower…and the rose that is fading…roses whither away…"_

The song, that I'd only ever heard sung by a female, worked well with his smooth tenor voice, and there were modifications I caught here and there. There was nothing remarkable about this night, other than an extra cat sitting by me…singing… at the top of his lungs. I sat there, and let my mind wander, and this particular night, it clasped on to a relatively new thought. "_Mister Miserable Mistofelees…_" I heard over and over in my head. Was I really as depressed as he had muttered? I sighed and let this thought consume my mind. I will admit I had not been the same since Victoria left, but, _"Miserable?" _Was I really _miserable_? I mean, the love of my life was gone. She might never come back. I might sit on this platform for the rest of my life. I might never see her again. I might never dance with her again. I might never see her again. I might never hear her voice. I might never see her again. I might have to walk past her empty den every morning. I might never see her again. I might never see her again. I might never, ever see her again. I might never, ever, _ever _see her again…

"_Life was beautiful then…_"

I was suddenly aware of Skimble again, and I realized I wanted the song to end there.

"_I remember, the time I knew what happiness was…_"

I wanted to scream for Skimble to stop singing.

"_Let the memory live again…_"

But I didn't. I let him sing, and I let the tears finally come. In the almost year since she had left, I hadn't let any of it out. I had kept all of my feelings inside, and they had eaten me alive. All it had taken was the company of a friend, and a few painfully appropriate song lyrics to reduce me to a blubbering mess. Skimble hadn't noticed, and had kept singing, and for that I was thankful. The last thing I needed was someone hovering over me—or for the song to end. It was like fuel for my fire, and I needed to let it burn itself out.

I tucked my paws under me and hid my face in them. I let the song distract me a little, but all too soon, it came to an end. I heard the pocket watch chain on Skimble's vest clink against its buttons as he jumped off the bench. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel him next to me. It was a little unsettling, but comforting all the same time. All I could do was wait to gather myself, or for him to decide to leave. I hoped with all my might that it would be the former. And, fortunately, it was. In a few minutes, after my throat had gotten sore from sobbing, and my nose had begun to run, and I could barely see, I took a final deep breath, and gathered myself. I straightened my neck, let my paws hang again, and closed my now undoubtedly reddened eyes. Lowering his head down next to mine, Skimble spoke.

"I know it's none of my business really, but—"

"It's okay, Skimble," I cut him off. "I actually thank you for that. I had needed that for a long time. I feel like a weight has been lifted off of me."

"You don't look like it was any favor to ya." He laid down on the edge with me. His paws hanging, too.

"No, it was. It was closure. What we had was great, but now, it's all a memory." I put my head down facing away from my friend.

"But you can't honestly believe that, can ya?" He walked around to face me again.

I sighed. "I have to, Skimble. I'm going to drive myself insane waiting for her every night, knowing that there's a real chance she might never come back."

"But, the letter…?"

I lifted my head. "How did you know about the letter?"

"Ever'one knows 'bout it, Misto. Munkustrap kept ya in the dark to protect ya. He's harsh, but he's not evil. He didn't want to get your hopes up. He knew the two o' ya had something special, and he didn't want ya to do this to yourself. The point is, in that letter, she promised she'd come back. Don't you believe her?"

"I believed her when she said she'd never leave."

Skimble bit his lip and furrowed his brow, looking around awkwardly. I had made my point.

"It took me a long time to realize when she had broken that promise, and it took me a long time to realize she'd broken this one." I was almost ready to get up and leave, when something caught my attention. There was a single leaf blowing around the tracks. It would rise and fall with the breeze carelessly, and it never left the space right in front of me. Then all of a sudden, a more powerful breeze blew it away down the tracks…

I sighed and turned to leave when Skimble perked up. His ears were wildly searching the night for a sound, and his claws were outstretched, giving him a look halfway between noble—and insane.

"Ain't that peculia'." He dashed over to his bench.

"What?" I followed him as he jumped on to his perch, and then to the rail leading to the station master's empty booth.

"It's awf'ly peculia' indeed." He said as he paused, again searching the air for a noise before darting off again.

"Skimble, what's going on?" He dashed into the booth through a door in the back, and jumped up onto an old wooden chair.

"They can't manage a week without me keeping the schedule in check…!" He pushed papers around on the desk until he found the one he was looking for.

"SKIMBLE!" I shouted.

"Whatcha hollerin' 'bout? I'm trying to do me job!" He glared at me for a second before returning to the paper shuffling.

"What happened to your vacation? And what's going on?" I jumped up onto the desk and tried to make sense of what any of the papers said.

"A train." He said solemnly before returning to the time tables and reports of the past few weeks' schedules.

"What about a train, Skimble? Is one late? Was there an accident? What—is—going—on!" I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him a little.

"No. Nothin' late, no accident. That's just it, though, there's not s'posed to be a train tonight. Not a one." He swat my paws away.

"Then what's going on?"

"One's comin'." He was panting. "I can hear it comin' and it's a comin' fast."

I ran to the back door and stuck my head out. I heard nothing, absolutely nothing. Even the dogs were behaving tonight. "I don't hear anything Skimble!" I shouted back inside. It was dark and eerily still until… _WHOOOOOOT!_

"Ya hear that, now?" He jumped off the chair and ran out of the building in front of me. Once again, I followed.

"What do we do?" I asked as we jogged up the rail again.

"What can we do? There's gonna be a train here in…" He paused and lifted his head to listen. "'bout four and a half minutes." He jumped back to the platform completely skipping the bench all together, and stood like a soldier, alert and ready, about a foot from the edge. "Listen here, Misto, you'll do as I say and nothin' more or less, understood?"

"Uh, yeah…" He was facing the track and had said this without looking my way, or moving at all, really.

"Good. You'll go and sit on that bench. _Quietly. _When the train comes, you'll stay there unless you see a passenger approach ya. Do _not_ wait for them to have to ask ya to move, just do it and wait next to the bench. Once—I hear brakes—" he straightened up even more, if that was possible, "any who, once _all_ the passengers are off, I will board and address the conductor, that will be your cue to leave, Mistofelees. Tell the others that send my best. Are you following?"

"Yes, sir." Even though he was only one or two years my senior, Skimble suddenly had the presence of a person who could be my father.

"Good. It'll be here soon. Be ready!"

"I have no idea for what, but I'm ready." I scratched my ear and yawned. I also had no idea how seriously Skimble took his job…

"NO SCRATCHING!" He turned towards me screaming at the top of his lungs for just a second before popping back into place. I was almost afraid to blink. Just then, a light came around the curve of the track, creeping along and coming to a not-so-sudden halt. I waited, impatiently, for the doors to burst open all at once, and for people to come flooding out onto the platform, but it never happened. Instead, one door opened, the conductor's door, and he stepped out carrying a very old looking oil lamp. The light almost blinded me; I had gotten so used to the darkness. The conductor smiled at Skimble and tipped his hat. The conductor was smiling broadly. Unusual, I would have thought, for a late night run like this. Skimble marched over and put one paw on the bottom step of the stairs leading onto the train, before stopping short, his eyes wide open and his tail frozen, perfectly perpendicular to the ground. He muttered something my direction.

"What?" I whispered loudly. I jumped off the bench and headed towards him.

"I said, ya might wanna see this!" With his free paw, he motioned towards the cabin.

I crept slowly over to Skimble and the conductor, who was still grinning from ear to ear, watching us, completely ignorant to the events of this evening. I was tentative; I couldn't imagine what he would want me to see, especially since he told me that his boarding the train would mean I should go. Low to the ground, I slunk along the edge of the platform. Skimble wore a look of utter shock on his perpetually grinning face, and the conductor was still smiling like an idiot. Skimble's paw hadn't stopped shaking towards the door. I couldn't see around the corner, and I was wondering if I really wanted to.

I came along side the door, so Skimble and I were practically face to face, but I still couldn't see in. "What do you want to show me, Skimble?" I said through my teeth.

"Just look. I promise it won't attack." His face melted into a smile, and he laughed quietly to himself.

I decided then, to just go for it. I held my breath and reached my neck around the corner to look inside when—

A flash of pure white was all I saw before I hit the concrete—hard. Skimble had lied. Something had attacked me. Something light and white and soft. When I sat back up, she was all I saw. The conductor was laughing, and Skimble was muttering again, only this time it was more like, "not in a million," and, "lucky ol' boy."

I couldn't see anything past her, though. My other half was back. Victoria was _back_! My mind was racing. I should have been asking her if she was okay. I should have been asking her where she had been for almost a year. I should have been asking how long she was going to stay…but I couldn't. I was immersed in that moment. I'll remember it for the rest of my life: How the chill of the air had been chased away the second our eyes met; how she looked exactly the same as she had the night before she left; how my cheeks hurt from smiling for the first time so long; and how her voice had sounded the first time she said, "I missed you."…

I was only semi-aware of Skimble boarding the train, and the conductor beginning to ask him about this vacation in the same drawling brogue. I hadn't the vaguest idea of when the train left, but all I know is that when Victoria and I stood to go home, we were alone on the platform. Skimble had been right; the out of town trains came very late. Though I had lost track of the time, the sun was rising ahead of us as we walked home. I took the same path home every day for the past year, wearily waiting for this morning, and finally it had come, on the night train.


End file.
